The Weight of a Hundred Suns
by Razzika
Summary: They lived together, fought together and bled together. The crew of the Normandy wasn't just a group of humans and aliens, they were friends, they were a family. Snapshots of moments between Shepard and his crew. Updated sporadically, multiple genres, Tali romance, not linear (takes place in games 2 and 3). Character focused.
1. James

_I've always wanted to write something between James and Shepard._

_No slash, maybe some Bromance._

_Perhaps part of a series involving the Commander and his/her crew (gender subject to change depending on the squad-mate, romance or situation-or whatever I feel like writing at the moment, haha)._

_Enjoy._

_**The Weight of a Hundred Suns**_

_James Vega_

The voices of Cortez and Vega drifted through the belly of the Normandy, bouncing gently off the walls. The sounds, along with the buzzing of whatever tools the pilot was firing up in his relentless mission to improve the Kodiak, were a nice backdrop to the near quiet of the Shuttle Bay.

While John did appreciate the soft, lulling hum of the Normandy's engine, it was pleasant to hear the light-hearted banter the two consistently delivered.

He leaned forward, smiling at the bickering that was going on.

"Excuse me, amigo," John could picture James crossing his bear-like arms over his chest, "but what you did in Purgatory was not dancing."

"Then was precisely would you call it, Mr. Vega?" There was a smile in Steve's voice, and it made John grin a little wider. The smiles and laughter had been coming more often of late, ever since that visit to the memorial wall on the Citadel.

"I'd call it charades, since it looked like you were trying to imitate an octopus."

"At least I can play charades," came the whip-fast retort, "and Pictionary for that matter."

"Hey! It's not my fault Scars can't draw. It was meant to be a warship, but looked like a banana with a rocket attached to its ass."

"I wasn't aware that bananas had asses."

"Don't change the subject, we will be discussing your embarrassing attempt to get your groove on." A pause. "And everything has an ass. Sometimes ya just gotta think about it."

John covered his mouth to muffle the chuckles, setting the tools for repairing armour back down on the table.

"Do you often think about the rear ends of fruit? Or is it just bananas? Which are often given a different anatomical reference."

"Bah, you always turn these talks around on me, Estaban. I'll come back when you're ready to admit you're a crap dancer."

"We won't be talking for a while then, Mr. Vega."

"Yeah yeah, later."

As the heavy tread of James's boots approached, John went back to repairing the medi-gel dispenser in his chest-plate. A stray grenade while his shields were at half-strength had rattled the machinations something good, leaving a carbon burn and a fair dent in the plating. Not to mention peppering the plating with shrapnel.

There were more than a few members of his crew that would have been more than happy to do the repair job, but the simple task was a bit of a blessing, a vacation compared to chasing down leads on Cerberus or saving colonies from the Reapers.

He rubbed absently at his chest at the reminder. No serious damage, but a fractured sternum ached no matter how enhanced your healing abilities were. Pain was good though, it meant that he wasn't dead.

"Oh, hey, Commander."

John pulled his hand away, picking up a delicate tool for picking out the smaller bits of shrapnel and twirling it around his fingers.

"James." He scanned the mess he had made. "Hope you don't mind me taking hostage of your work station."

Brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, drifted over the tools and armour spread out. James quirked a brow.

"Not at all, Commander." He lifted a massive shoulder in a shrug. "I've seen your quarters, I doubt you'll be leaving much of a mess."

He didn't ask why John was down in the Shuttle Bay, instead of simply doing it in his quarters, where there was comfortable seating and privacy. John didn't offer an explanation, James didn't question it, and John was grateful.

People who saw James often assumed that he was all brawn and no brain, but he was much more than that. The lieutenant was perceptive, picking up on things most wouldn't. Why else would he have been assigned to guard John while he was under house-arrest?

"Bananas, Vega?"

James chuckled, rolling his neck before taking his customary spot at the work-station. "If you really want to get into this, we gotta agree that you're a worse dancer than fly-boy over there."

"Not going to happen, Vega."

James chuckled. "I've got proof too, first hand witnesses."

John looked up and frowned. "Who?"

"'sides everyone in any bar or club you've ever been in," he smirked, "Tali and Garrus will back me up. Jack mentioned something about you guys shredding up the floor on Afterlife once."

John was concerned now. James had a particularly amused air about him.

"What did she say?"

James flashed his teeth. "She didn't say, so much as show."

He dragged a hand down his face, vaguely remembering testing out his new liver a little too thoroughly with Jack, Grunt and Kenneth. The feel of stubble on his jaw took him by surprise. How long since he had shaved? He barely had enough time in the shower to get clean before EDI was notifying him that someone was at the door or on the Vid-Com.

"Hey, Loco, you alright?"

John blinked, a little startled to see James looking over at him with worry.

"What did she show you?"

James looked like he was going to question him again, but moved on anyway.

"Just a little home video on her Omni-tool. Jack's not the best cameraman, especially with that much drink in her, but you were impressive enough that it didn't really matter."

John sighed at the devilish grin on his face.

"Please don't let that spread. Anywhere." As his smirk only broadened, John deadpanned: "I can make that an order."

James held his hands up in surrender. "No need for that, man. You're crap dancing isn't a secret though, vid or not."

He pointed the tool, glorified tweezers with a minor magnetic pull, at James. "Watch it, Vega. There are a lot of machines on the ship that need cleaning, and you're looking like a good candidate right now."

"Now you're just abusing you're power."

John huffed a laugh, picking out the last of the decimated shell casing. Concussive rounds hurt like a bitch. It plinked into the small pile by his elbow. James leaned closer, letting lose a low whistle at the collection of exploded bullets.

"That's some serious damage you nearly took. Shields fail?"

"Grenade took nearly took them out. They got some lucky shots in."

"I'll say," James muttered, picking up one of the plates that covered his shoulder, running a thumb over the gouge streaking across it, "you must be hurting."

John had to stop himself from rubbing his chest again. "Nothing I can't handle."

James locked gazes with him then, looking more serious than John had ever seen. Save the first time they'd met, when neither was entirely sure what to think of the other.

"There's only so much a person can take, Loco."

A tiredness swept through John, and he agreed with James. There was only so much death one see and not stop before the rage became too much, only so much weight one pair of shoulders could bear before they broke under the pressure.

John shoulders had been feeling very heavy lately.

He forced a smile.

James had seen Commander Shepard's face plastered all over the extranet for years. After the Batarian attack, his image was of a straight-backed man with youthful eyes and a proud jaw as he was presented with his well-earned medal and promotion.

Then after Sovereigns' defeat, he was a little more stern, a little more experienced. There was a weight to his gaze then, a terrible knowledge burning behind the blue.

The few unflattering interviews with that cow of a reporter weren't worth anything. in James's opinion.

Even after all that, he was still John Shepard, the unbreakable soldier, the man who just wouldn't bloody die.

But then he did die.

There was no 'possibility' or 'percentage of survival'. John had died. Spaced, suffocated, frozen and cooked.

If there was one thing, just one, that Cerberus had actually done right, it was bringing John Goddamn Shepard back.

James could see the evidence of Cerberus's work. The nearly imperceptible lines of red slashing across the Commanders skin. He could see it in the field too. Hits and falls that would have killed, or at least seriously injured, other humans did little more than rattle the man's teeth.

And that's what worried James now.

The Commander kept pushing himself, testing the limits further and further. Fighting harder, sleeping less. Though James suspected the lack of sleep was because of some of the messed up shit John must have seen.

Hell, Vega had nightmares about his squad and their horrific mission. Considering all the crap the Commander had been through, from the Blitz to the damn suicide mission against the Collectors, James was surprised if he managed any sleep without some serious meds or exhaustion on his side.

Right now, John was plastering on a fake smile (which James had gotten good at picking out after seeing him around so many politicians and reporters), and he had never looked so old.

Except, perhaps, when he had come out of that room in Huerta Memorial, his drell friend dead.

"It's a good thing I've got such a good crew then, right Vega?"

James saw the Commander then and now. The difference was easy to see. The red lines, the tiredness pulling his shoulders down, but he also saw the determination that was going to win them this goddamn war. The endless well of bravery that had saved so many lives.

"Damn straight, Loco." He clapped the Commander on the shoulder. "I'm hungry, wanna get some grub? I spied some stuff in the fridge that might make a decent meal."

John set the tools down by the pile of shrapnel, straightening his tall frame out with a hidden grimace. James glared hatefully at that little pile when the Commander couldn't see; twenty seven little pieces of metal that could have killed the galaxies last hope.

"So long as you don't include bananas, I'm up for having a personal chef."

James snorted as if taking insult while mentally making a note to bribe Tali into fixing up the Commanders gear up with some stronger shields. The spunky little Quarian would do it out of loyalty to John, but the Commander didn't want to take her away from upgrading the ship and the other squad-members armour, so he didn't ask.

"You won't regret a meal made by me, and that's a promise."

John chuckled, looking just a little bit lighter than he had before.


	2. Tali

_Tali was probably my favourite romance option, and also one of my favourite characters. _

_MaleShep/Tali_

_After the Reapers attack Thessia, in Mass Effect 3._

~0~

The Weight of a Hundred Suns

_Tali_

Shepard doesn't jerk away from Liara, so much as he pulls out from under her hand, rejecting even the slightest bit of comfort. The Cerberus gunship is a mere dot against the horizon now. And in its belly lays Kai Leng, along with the Prothean VI.

Tali's stomach tightens with nausea her anger is strong. They had been _so close-_

Blood fills her mouth again, it is a thick and unpleasant taste. She bit through her cheek when the damn gunship had unleashed it powerful arsenal upon them. Tali swallows the blood, it's not like she can spit it out.

Thessia's burning skyline reflects in John's visor, the fire hiding anything his face might tell. While she wishes that she could see him, Tali does not want to see the terrible rage in his blue eyes.

Her hands tighten on the shotgun. There is an ominous creak, and she forces her grip to relax.

Tali knows that Shepard is blaming himself.

0

Tali has decided to break into Shepard's quarters.

No one enters his quarters without invitation, not even she. It is out of respect that they do this, and out of concern. Not a single crewmember wants to risk disturbing the commander if he is catching up on some much-needed sleep.

And since John had come out of the vid-com room looking twenty years older, no one wanted put anything else on those already burdened shoulders. Not that anyone, expect maybe Garrus, knew what to say. And the Turian was working on Liara at the moment, though he had spoken briefly to Shepard, urging him to rest.

Tali's heart ached for her asari friend, but Shepard needed someone right now.

She wound and unwound her fingers with worry.

John had locked the door.

He _never _locked the door.

The blazing red lock sends a renewed surge of worry through Tali. Her omni-tool flares to life. She was getting in there even if she had to use every trick up her sleeve to pick the damn lock.

"Shepard requested that, exempting emergencies and calls from Admiral Anderson and Hackett, that he be left alone."

Tali did not stop.

"I'm worried about him, Edi."

"Is there cause for your behaviour?"

Tali huffs sharply. "Did you-oh, come on you little bosh'tet-did you not see Shepard after Thessia? After he spoke to the asari councillor?"

There was a pause. "The monitors in Shepard's armour have detected elevated levels of stress."

Her fingers hover over the screen, stilling.

"How elevated?"

"They are akin to the spikes that Shepard experienced during the attack on the Collector base..." Edi's voice softened, "the highest spikes recorded were those when you were trapped in the ventilation shaft. It is...distressing to discover that these spikes are becoming more frequent."

Tali swalloww, mouth dry. _Oh Keelah._

"However, while onboard the Normandy, Shepard is at his calmest when you are with him."

The lock flashes green, the panels sliding apart.

Omni-tool powering down, Tali takes a moment to steady her own heart.

"Take care of him," Edi says, connecting directly to Tali's suit. "Please, Tali."

Tali nods, quietly heading inside.

0

Tali had always liked Shepard's room. It was simplistic, maybe a little sterile, but the tank simply gave the space an ethereal glow that charmed herself deeply. There were no tanks in the quarian fleet, unless she counted the tanks Admiral Xen kept for her experiments and research, but they never had _fish _in them.

The soft, blue glow was the only source of light. She spies his armour in a pile outside the bathroom.

"Shepard?"

Her tentative call went unanswered.

Tali ventures deeper, descending the stairs. _Ah, there you are. _

Shepard was asleep, stretched across his bed. It wasn't the time for it, but she still blushed and swept and appreciative eye across the bare expanse of his back.

He had always struck her as a strong man, but seeing the firm muscles, feeling the quiet strength in them from time to time, makes her realise how much power is coiled within him.

Tali steps closer, frowning sadly as she registers that his sleep seems troubled. Another nightmare, causing him to twist in the sheets. As she settles on the edge of the mattress, he rolls over, and her frown deepens. Bruises, large and round, purple in the centre, bloom across his torso. She could follow the line of fire, they were so clear.

She reachs out, nearly smoothing her hand over one. James had pulled her aside the other day, quietly asking Tali to improve the shielding in Shepard's armour.

_The loco needs some stronger shit in that armour of his, Sparks. 'specially since he's always using those fancy biotics to drag our asses out of trouble, no?_

Keelah, she should have done it sooner. Ashley would have understood if Tali needed to fix up the commanders armour first, and Kenneth would have simple waved her on her merry way.

Tali carefully reaches over, gripping the sheets and sliding them back up. _My stupid, brave, human. _

She curses her own damn suit, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin on hers, whenever she wanted, without getting sick. She was better, her body acclimating to Shepard's much quicker thanks to the geth assistance, but still-

"Mm,Tali?"

Shepard stirred, face relaxing marginally.

She shushes him, climbing in beside him. Curling her body around his, as if she alone could protect him from the world, from the Reapers, from _everything_.

"I thought I locked the door," he blinks sleepily, not looking annoyed, but questioning.

Tali shifts closer, sweeping her thumb over his cheekbone. She knew from experience that simple, gentle touches like this could sooth him into an easy sleep.

"You can never keep a determined quarian out of a locked room."

The barest of smiles pulls the corner of his mouth up. He draps an arm over her waist, and again she cursed the suit. She felt the pressure of his arm, but not the warmth. Eventually, it would seep through, but it wasn't the same.

"I thought I'd rather be alone after..." he shut his eyes, and her heart breaks a little, "but I'm glad you're here, Tali."

"Go back to sleep, John," she whispers, taking the mask off, even if it was only for a few minutes, and that spark of wonder still lit up in Shepard's eyes when he saw her face. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Shepard smils again, this one a bit brighter, cupping her cheek. _Ah, that's the warmth I love. _

"You don't have to."

"No," she admits, beginning to run her fingers through his hair, a devious trick to make him go back to sleep, and they both know it, "but I want to."

Shepard chuckles breathily, already falling back into slumber.

"Determined quarian," he murmurs through a sigh.

Tali kisses his forehead, shuffling until their bodies are flush.

"Stubborn human."

She couldn't keep the nightmares away, but she would be there when he woke up.


	3. Legion

_I loved just about all of the ME2 companions, but Legion was definitely at the top of the list._

_Takes place during ME2. _

_And I know that there wasn't a gym in the game, but it would make sense to have one on a military ship._

~0~

The Weight of a Hundred Suns

_Legion_

"Shepard Commander, we request an audience."

John blinked, swiping at the sweat stinging his eyes. The panels framing the geth's face twitched, but that was the only movement he was able to pick out. After working with organics, who were never able to remain completely motionless, having a synthetic on the team was a little jarring.

_Yeah, a _little _jarring._

Tali had nearly blown a fuse when she'd seen Grunt lumber through the mess with a geth draped over his hump.

"Shoot." John said, before quickly rephrasing with, "Figuratively."

Legion passed his eye over the gym, focusing on Joker moving through his routine exercises with Jacob overseeing, before settling back on John.

"This platform has completed the modification of your sniper rifle."

John nearly dropped the dumbbell he was still absently lifting. "You altered my rifle?"

Legion's head flaps lifted and resettled. "Negative. The M-92 Mantis remains untouched. We have created a Widow rifle for human capabilities."

John would privately admit that he had been pining for a chance to fiddle with the massive sniper rifle that Legion carried, even if he knew firing it would probably dislocate his shoulder. He may have mentioned it even, to Garrus when they were scoping out some mercenary base or something.

"Wait," he held up a hand, standing and leaving the weights bench behind, "you built a rifle from scratch, for me?"

Legion pulled something from his back. It unfolded into a slimmer version of the geth's rifle, but it was no less intimidating. "Affirmative. Crafting one from base materials was more proficient than modifying the Viper."

John took the proffered rifle, maybe feelings just a little bit like a kid during Christmas. It would take him a while to get used to the weight.

He peered up at the geth. "Why? Not that I don't appreciate this, but why?"

The impassive light that John stared into remained emotionless, but the flaps twitched. "The Mantis is an effective weapon, but the Widow is far more effective when paired with your abilities. We approximate your kill-rate to increase by a thirteen-point-four percent with increased firepower."

John hefted the rifle, peering through the scope. _Garrus will be green with envy._

"Does Shepard Commander approve of our actions?"

He grinned, chuckling once. "Yeah, Legion. I approve. Thanks, I can't wait to test it out."

"We expect success."

With that, the geth turned and left the gym.

John stared after him contemplatively until Joker, wheezing a little, and Jacob sidled up to him.

"Someone's going to be jealous over that lil' beauty," Jacob whistled, eyeing the rifle appreciatively.

Joker snorted, scratching his beard. "Who? Garrus when he finds out that Shepard now has the bigger rifle, or Tali when she finds out Legion gave her boyfriend a, frankly awesome, gift?" Green eyes shifted between the two of them, smirk in place. "My money's on Tali."

Jacob laughed, shrugging. "Normally, I'd bet on the turian, he's one tough son'ova bitch, but I've seen Tali with that shotgun of hers..."

John stifled a wince. For Tali to be outshone by a geth...

"It wasn't a gift," he argued, "it was a...logical stepping stone to improving our chances."

Joker actually _giggled. _"No matter how you phrase it, Commander, she'll still be pissed."

Jacob clapped him on the shoulder, "Have fun with that, sir."

Insubordinate bastards.


End file.
